When Darkness Came
by kasura
Summary: The catalyst in the first Kinslaying, in Aqualonde.


When Darkness Came

Disclaimer: probably AU.

By kasura

The white ships swayed gently in the dark water. Silvery chains roped around the bowsprits to imprison these dainty swans to the dull wooden bollards.

He emerged from the water undetected, graceful like the seals leaping to breath. His white feet landed on the polished wooden dock, leaving a watery trail behind. He smiled. His homecoming was subdued, no trumpets thundering, no white bouquets strewn on the road for him to tread over.

He glided towards the ships, his dark hair swayed in similar rhythm like the white ships behind his proud back. In the darkness he could fathom his face, and his form, breathlessly beautiful, with dark glittering eyes, arched brows, aquiline nose, complementing his slender yet supple limbs. His fervor bright eyes could see multitudes of reddish torchlight firing the town square bright reminiscence of the deceased Laurelin's lights miles away. There were heated words exchanged, battling for dominance, arisen out of silver and raven hosts that congregated in the square.

He hopped lightly on to the ladder of the closest white ship, and climbed to the main deck. The ship trembled at his presence, no longer swaying gently, but moving back and fro in frenzy to rid of a vermin. He trotted around the deck, seeing its white magnificence for the first time. For he is an artist of a sort, and could appreciate this flawless beauty, of gleaming polished beams that shone with a soft light. His languid hands stroked the swan's feathering wings, feeling the wooden substance quailed reluctantly under his touch.

Noise drifted to his ears, sent by the gentle winds, louder and louder. He waited. Patience is his virtue. Soon they will notice him.

Footsteps appearing on the far side on the deck signaled the presence of another. He moved closer to make him visible, easy to detect. From the shocked face framed with a sheet of frosty silver hair, he knew what his raven hair and dark burning eyes meant. The Teleri elf uttered his question, "What are you doing…." He struck the unaware silver being with the iron blade he had conjured, before his intended victim finished his words.

Gasp. Breath. Open yet dying silver eyes. Rivulets of blood splattered across the snowy white sail. Sauron appraised his artwork in satisfaction. His thin bloodless lips curved slightly up in the mockery of a smile. Exhausting the last dredge of his energy, the Teleri elf screamed, "Be warn my brothers, the Noldor came to steal our ships by force. Never shall these thieves leave the Haven in our ships.*"

The elf tumbled down to the deck like a fallen desiccated leaf, a gruesome parallel to his lifeless kin in Angband piling on their beloved poisoned earth. Empty eyes refused to bar themselves from the beloved ship in death, remained open.

Killing an Aman elf felt the same as killing an Arda elf, Sauron surmised nonchalantly. His pristine left hand smoothed his raven locks. But his lord's script must be heard, Sauron let the blood on his blade dripped down to the stained deck.

Soon, another Teleri elf aboard the ship, with fury in his eyes, his slender hand holding a harpoon tightly until his knuckles turned white. The silver mariner cursed him in his Noldor guise, calling him murderer of a brother and fell names, poising his harpoon to strike. Sauron offered no resistance. He meekly presented his unguarded chest to the elf, moving his body closer to the ship edge, where the subsequent act can be seen from afar, where Feanaro and his host has the full view, has to witness.

The harpoon pierced through his slender body, pain overwhelmed his nerves, blurring his vision except for the pair of grieving silver eyes starring down at him. _So this is what dying feels like_. Sauron stared at his killer's eyes defiantly and laughed at death. _Except I am deathless._ Weakened by the loss of blood, his knees crumpled to the bloody deck. He pushed his dying body upright, with the harpoon hanging, beseeching arms raised toward the Spirit of Fire, shouting:

"My lord Feanaro, I die for you, I die for your freedom!"

Eyes closed, he fell on top of the Teleri elf he had killed, dark hair entwined with silver hair in an intimate embrace. Motionless. Dead.

Feanaro snarled. Fury brightened his eyes until they shone eerily crimson, emblazing his tall frame and brought terror to the quailing Teleri. He called for arms to avenge his slain devotee; his seven sons swiftly formed a protective circle around him, cutting a blood path towards the swan ships. The host of Feanaro drew their bright swords and waylaid any Teleri who dared to oppose their goal to secure the ships. The slaying of their kindred broke the Teleri out of their daze and began to reach for whatever arms they could muster in the Haven and fought back to reclaim their treasures. From a distance, the shrill wailing of an elf woman could be heard, her anguish reached Feanaro's ears and he recognized these might be Earwen's cries, which meant the host of Finarfin finally arrived.

The host of Finarfin had arrived too late.

In the ensuing chaos, no one paid attention to the darkness slithering down to the bloodstained water, dissolving itself in the weeping sea.

Note:

* The second sentence was borrowed from _The Book of Lost Tales 1_, by JRR Tolkien, Chapter VII: The Flight of the Noldoli. 


End file.
